But that is what they could do. Today, we ride gently. I just about crack the taps open on the Vulcan 2000 and thrum along at a very legal 60 kph. On my right, I can barely hear Zubin on the Valkyrie. He holds station effortlessly, engine barely audible. On my right is Captain, his Road Star making the typical pushrod V-twin noises. Running stock pipes, it’s a quiet, peaceful clutch of cruisers, just moseying on down the road.
At this pace, you have time to take a long look at the other bikes, watch the sky reflected in the their paint. To catch the look of desperate envy in bystanders, whose eyes follow us like sunflowers do the sun. To bank into corners in formation, making drivers behind us forget about speed for the moment, and concentrate on the sheer beauty of three low-n-low, eight-foot-plus motorcycles flying low in formation.
Thank God I can ride like this only once in a while. The Vulcan eventually snaps me out of the mood, and returns me to my usual, more hyperactive self. I raise a hand, ‘Nice flyin’ withcha!’ and whack that throttle open. The Vulcan grabs my throat and throws me forward like a ragdoll. I watch the horizon pass below my front wheel. Both the cruisers become mere specks in the mirrors. Just the way I like them.
|
